


Friends Don't Need Benefits

by Josey (cestus), junko



Category: Bleach
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 19:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14267523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestus/pseuds/Josey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: Renji runs into his old sempai, Hisagi Shuuhei...





	Friends Don't Need Benefits

Was that Hisagi-sempai?

Renji craned his neck to see past the crowd and, yeah, it was him, tucked in the back corner of the porch, a half empty glass at his elbow and a pile of paperwork on the table in front of him. The hair was maybe a little shorter and more spiky that it'd been at Academy, and he had a new tattoo--a blue stripe that went under his eye and over the bridge of his nose--but it was definitely Hisagi Shūhei. 

Man, that was wrong on all sorts of levels. For starters, dude was way too sexy to sitting alone. 

Taking a slurp of his beer--not exactly his first of the night--Renji pushed his way through the izakaya, giving the rest of the crowd the side-eye as he went. They all seemed to be giving Shūhei a wide berth, just shooting him the odd look, the rotten cowards. Granted, the distant morose stare and the leather neck and armbands filled with explosives might be a bit off-putting to some. But not to Renji. He was a good kouhai, and there some responsibilities that had to taken seriously, and stopping his senpai from working alone on a Saturday night was one of them. 

Plus, he was in the Eleventh these days. He’d seen way weirder fashion choices and hung out with people with much grumpier expressions. Murderous even. 

“Yo,” Renji said, plunking his glass down on the table. He plopped down opposite Shūhei. “Long time no see, eh?”

Shūhei jerked as if surprised. He frowned across at Renji, who was startled to see the scars from the Hollow attack still etched into the side of his face. He'd have thought they’d've healed clean by now. 

The sight brought back sudden, visceral memories: the scent of blood, the terrified screams of Academy students, Momo’s bravery, his muscles straining for real--for the first time against an enemy like that, one uncomplicatedly evil. It was a horrible night, but also the one when Renji learned what his strength was really for, what he was meant to do with his life. So, mixed memories. Mixed emotions too.

Apparently misinterpreting Renji’s look, Shūhei ducked his head as though trying to hide the scars, and rustled pointedly with the papers he very obviously hadn't been reading. “Abarai. You finally graduated, eh? What division are you in?”

The question hit Renji's beer-fueled bravado right where it lived. “Uh… well, that was a while ago already, graduation.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I might have already transferred outta one division, kind of maybe for punching a guy…” He dropped his voice to a mumble, “Like the lieutenant, and generally being ‘troublesome.’” 

After making the air quotes, he waved his hands to dismiss the whole idea as unimportant. He really didn’t want to get into the embarrassing details, especially now that Ichimaru was a captain. And Shūhei was a lieutenant too, he just remembered. Crap, could this get any more humiliating? “Anyway, Eleventh. Act surprised.”

Shūhei’s hands stilled and he raised his eyebrows. “Uh, yeah, actually, I am a little. I mean, I guess I remember you were good at zanjutsu, but… uh….” As he talked, his eyes flicked around the busy tavern as though too shy to linger on anything for too long. “”Well, I guess I thought Kenpachi was against all that school learning stuff.”

Renji nodded. “To be fair to the captain, he likes power, however you get there." He also didn't give a crap about rank, so maybe Renji didn't need to either. Feeling a bit more confident, he sat up a bit straighter and added, "As it happens I’ve had to relearn some stuff, anyway. Turns out, Zabimaru needs one-handed work.” To demonstrate, Renji pantomimed an overhead whip snap, and then switched back to two-hands for an imagined uppercut. “So, I got to be flexible. Eleventh is good for that.”

“I bet,” Shūhei nodded. “Zabimaru, huh? So, you have shikai already?”

“Eleventh wouldn’t take me otherwise,” Renji said with a shrug. 

“Oh, right, I hadn’t thought of that.”

Conversation died somewhat awkwardly then. As they sat in silence, Renji studied his former sempai. Shūhei was the only other guy Renji knew that had tattooed his face. In fact, that weird little sixty-nine on Shūhei’s cheek had emboldened a young Renji to get the first couple of swoops of ink over his eyebrows. He figured if the guy who was already accepted into the Court Guard had facial tats, he could, too. 

But, this new tattoo of Shūhei’s bugged Renji for some reason. 

All of Renji’s facial tattoos were on his forehead. To be fair, Renji had a pretty decent sized canvas there, thanks to a receding widows’ peak he didn’t really like to think about too hard. But, none of his ink was meant to obscure his face. He wasn’t wearing a mask, he was enhancing features already prominent… and honoring his zanpakutō spirit.

This big blueish silver stripe of Shūhei’s--it was like he was trying to cross off his face. The one side was already etched out, thanks to those claw marks. What the fuck, was Shūhei just trying to scribble out the other side?

It’d be a damn shame if that were the case.

The noises of the crowded tavern rolled in to fill the silences. The easy thing to do, the polite thing probably, would be to take his leave, but something told Renji that that would be the wrong thing to do. Instead, he finished off his beer and raised his hand to catch the attention of a harried-looking server.

“I’m going to order us some food,” he said, when he saw that the waitress had noticed him and was making her way in their direction.

“Suit yourself.” Shūhei shrugged, his attention to all intents and purposes back on the papers that Renji was positive he hadn't been reading. 

It wasn't real, the 'busy reading' thing, because Shūhei hadn't got mad when Renji interrupted. He'd not even said he was working. He'd just not put a lot of effort into keeping the conversation going, like Renji would eventually give up and go away. And that, in Renji's opinion, made the whole act a front, a way of keeping people at arm’s length. 

Too bad for Shūhei, Renji was just drunk enough not to care.

When the waitress elbowed her way to their table, Renji said, “Bring us something we can share to eat, maybe a plate of sashimi or something. Oh, yeah, and bring us another round, would ya?”

She looked over at Shūhei and gave Renji a broad wink, “I’m glad you finally showed. I thought you were standing him up!”

“Oh… uh…. It’s not like--” Renji started, suddenly besieged by second thoughts, but she was already gone. He gave Shūhei an apologetic look, because maybe that assumption wasn’t okay with him? But, once again, Shūhei just looked kind of impenetrably unperturbed. “So… am I intruding? Were you really busy or waiting on someone?”

“What? No,” Shūhei said with a guilty glance down at the papers. He smoothed a palm across the top sheet. “I get that a lot.”

Without missing a beat, Renji asked: “Because you’re always out alone or because you get stood up a bunch?” 

Shūhei looked slightly scandalized that Renji would ask so bluntly. Yeah, Renji was definitely getting the sense that people gave up on Shūhei, and didn’t call him on his bullshit very often. Renji just stared at Shūhei hard, to let him know he expected an answer. 

After frowning at the table a long time, Shūhei finally said: “There’s nothing wrong with eating alone.”

“No, there ain’t,” Renji agreed, but it seemed kind of sad to him, nonetheless. Why would Shūhei prefer to be alone? Immediately an answer popped into Renji’s head. He probably shouldn’t have blurted it out, but he had been drinking, so he said, “But seriously? Are you not making friends since Kanisawa and Aoga?”

Shūhei’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Do you need an intervention?”

“A what?” Shūhei shook his head at Renji. “How drunk are you, man?”

More deflection. Renji wasn't biting. He pointed to his nose. “Eleventh. It takes more than a couple of these weak-ass pints,” Renji lifted the glass of pissed-colored beer, “To get me drunk. Anyways, I asked you a serious question.”

Leaning his elbows on the wooden table, Shūhei rested his chin against his knuckles. His face crumpled into a frown, his lip out sullenly. “I have friends.”

“Oh yeah?” Renji leaned back, resting an arm on the porch railing. “Name one.”

“You.”

Renji shook his head. “Dude, I haven’t seen you for a decade, at least. You didn’t even know I’d graduated.”

“Kaname.”

That name seemed familiar to Renji. Someone from Academy? Then it hit him. “Shit, son, you can’t mean Captain Tōsen.”

“Why not?” Shūhei still looked a little pouty about it. “A guy can be friends with his captain, can’t he?”

Renji tipped his glass at Shūhei as an acknowledgement before swallowing the contents back. Setting the now empty glass on the table, he said, “I guess. I dunno. I mean, maybe. But, you work with the guy. He's your direct superior. You can’t exactly go out drinking with him, can you?”

“Obviously not,” Shūhei said, and drained the last of his beer too. 

Watching his throat work, Renji made up his mind. “Right,” he said, dusting his hands on his palms. “That’s it. You’re adopted.” He stood up and clapped Shūhei on the shoulder. “I’ll pick you up after dinner. Make sure you got enough kan on you to buy the first round.”

“Wait, what?” Shūhei grabbed Renji’s sleeve as he started to walk away. “What are you talking about? It’s already well past dinner time.”

“I’m talking about tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that,” Renji said. Reaching into the inner sleeve of his kosode, he dropped a few kan on the table to cover the food and drinks he’d ordered. “I’m going to pick you up and take you out with my crew. You’re one of us for however long it takes for you to get outta this funk you’re in.” Shūhei looked a little terrified at the prospect. “It’ll be good for you. Trust me, I had shit to work out, too. You’ll be surprised at the curative properties of Ikkaku’s Luck-Luck dance.”

“Uh… I don’t know, Renji. There's things I need to do. Work that--”

Renji lifted his hand to stop Shūhei’s protest. “Oi, you think I can’t tell when you’re in need of a rescue, sempai? I didn’t back down then, and I ain’t about to start now.”

#

It had been almost a month and Renji had stuck to his word. Every evening, duties permitting, he'd turned up at the Ninth and dragged Shūhei out drinking. Though honestly, after the first couple of times, the dragging bit wasn't really necessary. And slowly, slowly, Shūhei was starting to unwind. Sure he was still an anal obsessive who spent half his time worrying about deadlines, but he was also learning to let go and live a little. 

What he hadn't done yet was open up about whatever it was that was chewing him up so badly on the inside and in quiet moments, when Renji was off his game and let things drift, he'd catch Shūhei staring off into the distance like he'd been that first night, expression so bleak that it made Renji's stomach ice over to see it.

Tonight, though, there'd be none of that. Because tonight they'd all snuck over the Thirteenth Division’s wall into Ugendō, after Yumichika insisted he was tired of all the ugly taverns and wanted to be drunk somewhere beautiful.

And Renji had to admit that the lakeside was really something special, especially in the dark, with a waning moon and all the stars of the River of Heaven reflected in the still, dark water. He and Shūhei, sake bottles in hand, picked their way up the hill, further from the ever-present mosquitos and the loud splashes of Maki-Maki making an ass of himself trying to catch frogs. 

Chuckling as he watched the antics, Renji slipped Zabimaru from his obi and settled on the cool, wet grass. The echoes of a loud debate over the wisdom of building a bonfire drifted through the chilled night air.

Shūhei flopped down beside Renji, sprawling onto his back, his head resting slightly on Renji’s thigh. It was testament to how close they'd grown in the past few weeks that Renji didn't think twice about letting his fingers play absently with inky spikes of hair. Shūhei’s eyes drifted half closed in apparent pleasure before he smiled slightly and said, “They’re going to get us arrested.”

“Eh, I hear Captain Ukitake is out sick,” Renji replied taking a swig from the opened bottle. He had no idea if the intel was good, but it seemed like a 50/50 chance, regardless. “The worst we’re going to have to deal with are his Third Seats.”

He tried not to think about the fact that Rukia was here somewhere. He’d mostly put her out of his mind after she’d been adopted by the Kuchiki clan, but his ears always perked up at the mention of her name whenever it drifted through the grapevine. Plus, Momo was always an excellent source of gossip, especially now that she was the new lieutenant over at the Fifth. Through her, Renji had heard that Rukia was still unseated.

That seemed unreal to Renji. Rukia had always been better at all this shinigami shit than Renji… at least until Academy. How the fuck she hadn’t gotten into the same elite classes as Renji, he could never fathom.

And likely never would if he never spoke to her again. 

Renji let out a breath which steamed in the air. Below them, near the lakeshore, the drunken crew gathered wood. Not that they'd get a fire going without kidō. Everything was far too cold and wet. 

He took another drink, then poked the bottle into Shūhei's hands. 

Shūhei took it, but made no move to drink himself, seemingly too deep in thought to bother. The suddenly, without any preamble, he said, “I wish I’d died with them.”

Renji’s hand froze in Shūhei’s hair. This was it, the moment he'd been waiting for. And the confession wasn’t really a surprise, was it? “That’s why you’re blocking yourself out, huh?” 

He lightly touched the thick line across Shūhei’s cheek, following it up the bridge of his nose. Beneath his fingers, Shūhei stilled, hardly breathing.

“I can’t stand myself,” he whispered quietly, eyelashes glittering crescents as he clasped his hands across his narrow, thin chest.

“Aw, fuck, man,” Renji said kindly. Letting his hand rest on Shūhei’s shoulder. “I hate hearing you say shit like that. I’ve always admired you, you know. We all did--me, Kira, and Momo. I still think you’re awesome or I wouldn’t be out here with you.”

Opening his eyes, Shūhei asked: “Why are you trying to save me, anyway?”

Renji wasn’t entirely sure how to articulate his feelings. He let his gaze drift back to the lakeshore and the noisy arguments of his friends. They still hadn’t managed to get the fire going. In fact, Ikkaku was chasing Maki-Maki through the tall reeds brandishing a stick. But that was the Eleventh for you. 

“Because,” he said finally. “Because if you aren’t worth it, I sure as shit ain’t. I mean, look at me. In the top three of my graduating class and where the fuck am I? Drunk as a skunk, breaking-and-entering for shits and giggles. If I wanted to live like this, I should’ve stayed in Inuzuri. Yakuza pays better than the fucking army. I could be ruling a fucking fiefdom by now instead of brawling around with these yahoos.”

“I thought these people were your friends.”

“They are,” Renji said. “That’s my fucking point. What makes you so special, huh? You think you’re shittier than this lot? You have no fucking idea.”

Shūhei stared up at the stars for several long minutes. “That is the worst pep talk anyone has ever given me, Renji Abarai.”

Renji lightly smacked Shūhei’s head. “You’re welcome. Now get yer ass up and get back in the fight, sempai.”

With a self-deprecating laugh, Shūhei sat up. “It's that easy, huh?"

The glib answer was yes, but Renji knew that'd be a lie. "Not easy, no," he said, pushing to his feet. "But definitely that simple." 

He held out his hand. "Thing is, you're the only one left who can do it, so it's up to you to do it for those who can't."

And didn't that hold a lesson for him as well. They'd made a promise, him and Rukia, to become shinigami, because they were the only ones who could, and someone had to remember. 

Shūhei's hand slipped into his and together they pulled Shūhei to his feet. "Simple," Shūhei said, retrieving their sake bottle. 

"But not easy," Renji reiterated, tucking Zabimaru back in his belt. Maybe it was about time he made contact with Rukia again. He could ask Momo, see if she had any advice on how to go about it.

Someone down by the lake was yelling about stealing explosives from the Twelfth. Renji shuddered. “Now I gotta go help out these idiots. Yumichika could do the kidō, but he’s never gonna let Ikkaku see him do it, so I better go down there and blow some shit up so we can have a fire. Unless you wanna do it, college boy.”

“I remember your excuse for kidō," Shūhei said with a knowing look. "You’d better let me.” Setting off down the hill, he paused after a couple of steps and looked back over his shoulder. "Thanks, Renji. I mean it. You're a good friend."

Renji grinned to himself and followed, his heart feeling lighter than it had in months. Maybe tomorrow they could swing by the Third and grab Kira. It was about time the old gang got back together.

**Author's Note:**

> For: toujou-nozomom (Tumblr)
> 
> Who asked for something like this a long time ago.


End file.
